To my sister and new brother on their wedding day...

I wrote this post a couple of months before your wedding with intentions of posting it around the time of the big day, but things just got a bit crazy. I knew giving this speech at the wedding wouldn't go over so well because, a) I would probably need a bucket for my tears and not get through it, and b) I knew Jen and I wanted to write some words together. Since I am a full believer in always making sure to share your words, I had to publish this when I stumbled on it today.


Justin,


When I met you, you were a boy. You were a boy that was recklessly and immediately in love with my sister. I don't think it was a secret in the early years of you and Kelly's relationship that I was unsure of you. I was never really quite sure what your plans were for my sister. Even though Kelly was also young, she was rushed into a whirlwind of adulthood the moment she became a mother. You were not. I always knew your love was the real thing. I never doubted your feelings for her, for Ava, or even Kelly's feelings for you. But something held me back from accepting you. I can't say what that something was now-maybe fear, maybe an apprehension to let my sister belong so completely to someone else. But somewhere between those years in the past and now, something happened. You became a man. You became the man that I wanted in Kelly and Ava's lives, in all our lives, forever. You became my brother before this day. You are still headstrong. But you are also Kelly's rock, her solid ground. You are still that boy that recklessly loves my sister and my niece, but now I count that as a blessing. Love like that is rare. You know me. You know how important family is to me-and you know how important Kelly is to me. And you are it Justin. You are family. You are the man that I am proud has my sisters hand and my nieces heart. And I love you. You have been a part of this family for a long time, but today, you officially belong to us all-and I could not be more proud to call you my brother.


Kelly,


As your big sister, I have been blessed with being a part of every single moment of your life. I have witnessed all your firsts firsthand. There truly is no bond like a sibling bond. Our poor husbands. Today, you are getting married, and not unlike all the other milestones in your life, I will be beside you. In truth, this day still feels a bit unreal. I was just bouffanting your hair for prom yesterday. I was just crying over my letter saying goodbye as you headed off to college. I was just fumbling my tear ridden self into your delivery room. But today, you are getting married. There is no girl like you, Kel. And I am the luckiest damn girl on this earth because I get to have you for a sister. Thank you for being amazing. Thank you for knowing exactly what I am thinking without my saying a word. Thank you for holding my hand through the tough stuff. Thank you for letting me show my true mean mom side and not judging me for it. And thank you for picking Justin, there just isn't a better guy out there for you. You don't often do things wrong sis-and this is no exception. I cannot wait to watch all your firsts as a married woman firsthand. I love you with every single piece of my heart. Congratulations!


Cheers to one of the best couples I know, and I am totally not biased.

Lists for Days

I have always been a list girl. When I was in Middle School I wrote down what I wore every day. Mostly I did this because my best friend Alison did it and she was way cooler than me. Still is.
It didn't stop with Middle School though. In High School I wrote lists of books I wanted to read (I really wish I would have taken that list seriously-some of them are still on my to-read list now). As an adult I made a few lists that made me cringe a bit. I made lists of things I needed to do. Things I wanted to do. Things I really shouldn't do. You get the picture.
I think there is an art to list making and although I cannot say I have mastered it, there is something therapeutic about putting a big ole X through the things you have accomplished. Have you ever written something on your list you have already done just to cross it out. Yeah, me either. Do you have things on your list that have been there for months, or even years? I sure don't.
I was reading some posts from last year and I stumbled upon my list of advice. The one I wrote when I turned 30. I am happy to say I completely agree with all my previous advice. It got me thinking though. What will my list look like in 30 years? Will I scoff at some of my advice? Will I think things I previously thought important are really not all that important. That was a bit deeper of a thought when I typed it...
Anyway, since I am such a list lover and it is my birthday (well, it was 12 days ago) I thought I would share another list.
This one is a bit different.
I recently heard someone say (was it a song, movie, commercial, radio...?) "it was the best day of my life." And it got me to thinking. Could I really pinpoint the best day of my life? Could I pick one day that surpasses all other days in its goodness?
The answer was simple.
No.
There is not one day in my life that is better than alllll the other days. Of course there are the traditional answers:
my wedding day
the birth of Addison
the birth of Lucas
On and on and on.
However, are those really the best days of my life? I don't think so. Life-changing? Definitely. The best? Not necessarily.
What really makes one single day the best day of your life? And how often are you allowed to trump that day with the next best one.
I told Zach the other day that all our best days were before our kids.
That came out wrong.
All the best days I actually remember were before our kids.
What I meant was that our life is so gosh darn crazy and fast now that I can hardly remember lots of things that actually happened. Like yesterday, I don't even remember what we did. Kidding. Kinda.
But really, when you are an adult, life seems to move so much faster. It is nearly impossible to really hold onto things. Let's just say writing down what you wear every day is so not happening. Especially not for Alison-she has 4 kids  now. See what I mean? Way cooler.


Back to my point.


Even though I do not have a best day, I have the things that make them pretty great. These are not in order. They are simply in order of how I think of them and then jot them down.


1. Weather. 
No matter what it is, you seem to remember what the weather was like on a really good day.
2. That gut feeling.
You know the one. Good. Bad. Amazing. Terrifying. Stomach dropping. You remember how you felt. Sometimes you wish you could just feel it for one more millisecond. Sometimes, you wish you would never, ever, ever, have to feel it again. I forgot this was a list about the best days though, so erase the bad stuff I just said.
3. Clothes.
Ok, this may only pertain to girls. This may only pertain to Alison and I. But I can remember what I was wearing the day I met my husband. I can remember what I was wearing when he proposed. I have this memory of Zach leaning into the refrigerator in his blue jeans shirtless and drinking from the jug. We were in our apartment in Valdosta. There is nothing particular about that day that I remember. Just that.
4. The important people.
Obviously you remember who was there with you. Or not. Sometimes certain people that were actually there are forgotten. Oops. Gotta hate when you are telling that story and the person is all, "yeah, I know, I was there."


That list is way shorter than I expected it to be.


But, it is really funny the things you remember. And I am sure for each person, it is something different. My grandmother tells the most incredible stories. Her memories of the past are so vivid sometimes, I almost feel like I was with her. I can just look at her hands and hear her telling me about every ring she wears. Sometimes I ask uncle Don and Dad to tell us about Jim or Jay. Just so I can see their faces light up. The things they remember. How he cut potatoes. How they felt when he came home. Sometimes I ask Grandma to tell me her wedding story, even though I have heard her tell it ten times. Everyday I ask Addison how her day was, even though I know she is just going to say, "good," or "fine."


That is the best thing about best days. There are so many in this life. And if you don't ask people to tell their stories, or listen intently when they do, you are really missing out on something fantastic. Even the bad ones that stick with us oftentimes become good ones.
Thank God for that breakup.


Do you have a best day. One? Just one?
If so, go make some more! Or make a list. One is just never enough.


And, if you need something to make your day really, really great... Slow dance in the kitchen.

Inner Voices

With the craziness that is the first week of June in my family, I am only just now getting to sit down and write. I have found lately that writing is taking a major backseat to life, which is normally completely unacceptable to me-but somehow right now, it has felt necessary. With how fast everything is moving, I can hardly catch my breath. Summer officially kicked off for us on Memorial Day weekend-since for some unknown reason school decided to let out that Thursday. It has been non stop ever since. We spent a wonderful weekend in Charleston with Zach's step sister Megan and her family. She has three pretty amazing kiddos-two of which share a birthday, big bright eyes, humongous contagious smiles- and are squeezably irresistible. Let's just say that I had to remind Zach (and myself) that we are quite content with our two munchkins. We spent a couple days on the sand with a 5:4 kid adult ratio. It was busy and beautiful and exhausting. Since then, we have been to birthday parties, planned weddings, hosted sleep overs, obsessed over Clara on Saturdays, and all around just been flat out non stop. So needless to say, when June decided to come around-I was ill prepared.

Somehow, when Addison becomes one year older-it really rattles me. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that her life was the beginning of my adult and married life. As you know, if you have read past birthday posts, I don't...um...I don't deal with it all that well. I do understand and fully realize that I cannot make time slow down. I cannot stop the world from swirling around us. It is going to keep turning into night before I have even digested morning. But, I can still stamp my feet and whine a bit. Right? 

The colossal mistake we (I) made this weekend was charging our old camcorder (is that what we still call them?). I don't know what idiotic voice in my head told me it was a good idea, but that voice and I-we are officially not on speaking terms. When Zach and I first hit play huddled in the kitchen in the dark after Lucas had dozed off, I was the expected amount of nostalgic as I watched Addison eat wrapping paper Christmas morning while toddling as she attempted to sit on her own. Her big grin and rubber band chubby wrists made me a bit whispy eyed-obviously-but I slept easy that night thinking about that small baby that all those years ago was our only. I didn't fret. I don't really miss that stage all that much at this juncture in our lives-likely because we have a toddler now and are unable to really think about anything other than putting out fires and begging he and Addison to quit hitting and snatching. It was Friday night that really destroyed me. After Zane and Hannah left our place, Zach and I decided to torture ourselves just a bit more with home video watching. This time, it was Christmas morning when she was about two and a half. 

I. nearly. died.   

See, there is this weird thing that comes with parenting. This ability to push through. To put one foot in front of the other (with a ton of coffee and wine, lots of wine) and just forge on. No matter how hard it gets. No matter how many sleepless nights. Flu's and vomit. Ear aches. First days of school. Clinging mornings at daycare. Tears, tears and more tears-from both sides. You just watch the minutes tick by on the clock and eventually the hard stuff passes. The good stuff is more like a blip. It comes and goes so quickly you have to hold on for dear life if you actually plan to live in the moment. After all this pushing and clinging, moments have passed you by. And all the sudden last week feels like a distant memory and last year, a different lifetime. So, imagine what six years ago feels like. Or, for that matter-imagine what 30 years ago feels like to my parents. It quite honestly, and quite simply, feels like a lifetime ago. As you look back on it-whether it's still frames or home videos, it feels unreal. The faces looking back at you are your own-but in a way, it's as if they are strangers. Addison's little footie pajamas and whispy long brown hair and sweet little baby teeth and adorably mispronounced words are all like a dream, another lifetime. That is what is so terrifying. One day, I will see this age that way. One day, God willing, I will be seeing her though her little sweet angels eyes. 

So, yeah, it is a birthday. A small milestone in the grand scheme of things. This I know. But honestly, it is so much more than that. It is one year closer to another year that I will soon look back on and long for. Last night as she and I read together snuggled in her bed, I realized that right now she really likes to snuggle and read with me. Right now she wants my attention. Right now she begs me to listen. But that will not always be the case. So, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other. I will keep watching minutes tick by at the office until I get home to she and Lucas. I wish it was in our nature to really envelope each second of this life with slow blissful enjoyment and happiness-but life gets in the way of that. So, until her next birthday, I will just live in the present moment. I will try to convince myself that this year will pass a bit more slowly if I just take a few more breaths and slow things down. I will say that I'll make less commitments. I will say that I will read with her more. I will say that I will yell less. But realistically, life will keeping being life and time will keep passing as quickly (if not more so) as it has this past year.  But that inner voice of mine and I, we are not on speaking terms. 

Happy Birthday Boops. Please, please quit growing so fast. 

Cue still frames of summer so far.

That I Put Down in Words

I was thinking yesterday that I should totally be a song writer in Nashville. I mean, why not? I have all the material I could possibly need to be a country western song writer. Not really, I just like to say country western song writer as if it is a real thing. Not just a line from Sweet Home Alabama. Really though, songs are something magical. Last night, when I was driving home from Kelly's after celebrating life with Cooks Champagne (when you drink champagne, you have to pretend you are celebrating something or people judge you), I was listening to one of my favorite songs (I won't say which one it was...because, well, it is embarrassing) and it just made me so unbelievably....happy. I think happy. Well maybe nostalgic. Maybe sad. And that is exactly why music is so incredible. How can one four minute piece of music make you feel so many things that quickly? Nothing else in life can make you feel that way. Well, that is a lie. Last night I was head over heels crazy about Zach and literally about 2.3 seconds later when Lucas started crying (right as we were dozing off to sleep), we argued and I didn't care for him much at all. Like not even a little.

So really, don't take my word for anything, because I will likely soon realize I am wrong about it.

There is just something memorizing about music, right? Almost every memory I have is paired with a song. If there was not one playing, there is one that brings me back to a moment in time. What else can you really say that about...oh, right-we established that already. Marriage. Maybe smells too. Back to the point, Nickie!

When I spent summers in Iowa as a kid, Sara and I use to sing constantly, but there was one summer in particular we sang our hearts out. One song. We sang it over and over again. We walked down the street Say Anything style with the boom box on our shoulders rewinding that cassette tape time and time again. I will never, ever forget that.

Growing up, I was always surrounded by family. For some, that image will bring up a household of four. That is not even close to what I mean. What I mean is, every family gathering-which is nearly every other weekend- is around thirty people. And that is a normal weekend. It is hard to hear yourself think in that crowd. In fact, it is hard to even feel like you are there. Yet, somehow, you feel so surrounded with love. With happiness. And what is at the center of it all? Music. Music, music and more music. First it was old antique furniture brushes and remote control microphones with Bev, Terrell, mom, Jody, Paula, Bev and Jackie singing Fleetwood Mac and Trisha Yearwood. Later, it was Don on the air guitar-and then on the real guitar writing his own numbers. Then it was visits from Paula, Joe, and Billy. Billy playing just about anything we requested. If he didn't know the tune we wanted, he'd make one up. Then it was Jimmy's original number Sausage sung by the campfire in St. George. Thank heavens one of us actually has real talent-Matt on  his guitar-wowing us all with his perfectly perfect voice. In the Dull's eyes, everyone is a good singer. Everyone! And it makes you feel good. It makes you sing louder. Whether you felt like you belonged when you showed up or not, when the music starts and you know the song, you become one of us. The moment you hear "trailers for sale or rent," you completely lose yourself. You were mad, not anymore. You were trying to fight a toddler to quit licking the ice from the beer cooler, not anymore. You were on the phone, you hang up.

Songs rule the crowd. Rule the situation. They pull you like a puppet to the dance floor. They make you tear up, like Strong at Uncle John's funeral. They make you sing louder than you thought possible like Buffet tunes. They lull you to sleep as a newborn-or maybe every night as an adult. They remind you of a time when things were simple, like Shes in Love with a Boy. They remind you of a Walt Disney trip like Down Came a Blackbird. They remind you of your first slow dance at Cowboys in overalls and Timberland boots (why were those popular?). They remind you of middle school and of how inappropriate Kilo Ali really was/is. They remind of good decisions and bad. Some are so powerful, you can't even listen to them at all. So really, when I say music is magical, I mean it. And I was right, nothing else can do that. Nothing.

30 Things

I just read this article. I don’t really know why. It was there, and I was curious what 13 things every woman will have learned by the magical age of 26. I am not quite certain when I learned all thirteen of these things, but I can tell you there are several I have never learned, several that I learned when I was around three years old, and a couple that were just downright ridiculous. All judgment aside, I decided that since I am 30 now, yeah-I said it, there are about 30(ish) things I have learned slash recommend to those of you that will someday be 30. None of which involve stretch denim.

Number one-I have learned that life is too damn short. This does not mean YOLO. This does not mean "follow your heart." Those ideas are scary to their very core. Terrifying even. DO NOT LIVE ANY SECOND OF YOUR LIFE WITH THESE NOTIONS! Sorry for yelling at you. Yes, you only live once (I think-although I can't be certain) and yes, your heart oftentimes will push its nosy ass into your business, but air on the edge of caution. You will make countless mistakes before you turn thirty and believing in either of those sayings wholeheartedly will lead you to lots, lots more.

2. Be nice to people.

3. Take your education and your intelligence seriously. Make goals and meet them. Break them. Either way, have real life aspirations, career goals and limitations. Know yourself. Know what you are capable of, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Most importantly, don’t let anyone do it for you. Do it for yourself. (I think that was 4, 5 and 6)

#7 Try new things. Try things you don’t want to try. Try things you always wanted to try. Make a bucket list (that is #8) and check things off-life is too damn short.

9. Travel.

10. Ride with the windows down when the sun is shining and the weather is absolutely perfect. This will change your day immediately if you let it.

11. Work late, if for nothing else than to sit in a quiet empty office knowing that every person in all the vacant cubes around you is at home with their families. Somehow this will make you happy and appreciative all at once. It will also make you go home.

12. Be the nicest person you know. See #2.

13. Be honest with yourself. If you hate something, get rid of it. If you need to get in the gym-get there. If you must have a doughnut, have it.

14. Smile too much.

15. Cry a lot. It is seriously good for the soul.

16. Write.

17. Tell your kids your story. Often.

18. Make memories that you will both forget and remember tomorrow.

19. Have kids. More than one. Yeah, yeah- I know Jen-this is not for everyone and I get that. So I will change it to...have something to care for. Something that means more to you than you do. Something or someone that rocks your world every day and challenges you to be better than you are.

20. Be best friends with your sisters. Tell them to have kids even when you know they don't think that it's for them. You are allowed to do that. Because you are best friends and best friends forgive each other for butting in. They also know all your secrets.

21. Spend more time with your girlfriends. You don't see them enough once you have kids.

22. Watch at least one sunset a year, on the beach.

23. Try to see things from the opposing side. Whether it be politics, religion, your neighbor’s decision to plant ivy up the left side of their house. Whatever. You never know what you may learn. Or, it may make your viewpoint even stronger. Or-gasp! it may even make you change your mind.

24. I was 24 once. Tear.

Moment of silence...

25. Use your fine china. Why the hell did you register for $100 + place settings to let them gather dust? Eat delivery pizza on them for all I care. Use the gravy boat for ranch dressing. No one is allowed to judge you when you have fabulous dinnerware. No one.

26. Give. It will make your heart grow three times its size.

27. Send a card in the mail for no reason at all. And (28) write long letters of appreciation to your mom on mother’s day.

29. Re-kindle an old friendship. This does not mean drunk dial a college best friend bridesmaid that did you wrong by not showing up to your wedding and leaving you with an asymmetrical bridal party. Be bold- send her an email instead. Tell her you miss her. Hope she reads this.

30. Be excited to be/turn thirty. Because, you know, so many women say they were the best years of their life. Everyone who says that is in their forties. Kinda like everyone in their thirties say their twenties were the best years of their lives.

And, 31, because I am thirty now and I can break the rules, Slow dance in the kitchen.

Not a Baby

I wake up around 3 AM to the sound of him screaming my name across the hall. I nudge Zach. "He is calling for you," he says. "Pleeeeease," I whimper half asleep.

I wake up around 6 AM, lets be real-it is 6:38, to a small head nudged into my rib cage and cold toes on my left shoulder. I shimmy out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom for a 3.5 minute shower (yes, I swear, I am clean by then-the water is scalding hot!). I grab my clothes using my iPhone flashlight, all the while still tiptoeing. I wake my 7 year old four times and dress in her room. Finally, after I am certain my 7 year old is ready to walk out the door, around 6:58, I scoop him out of bed. He yells Iwuuuuuzlayindown in a precious half asleep, angry voice. I pop his paci in, wrap him in a blanket, and I load him into the car. I drop Addison at the bus stop and head to Mimi Barbara's to drop him off. He sleeps the whole way there-because, you know, he didn't get much sleep last night in my bed. I kiss him goodbye and head to work. I apply my makeup in the car and don't take my fist luxurious, hot, delicious sip of coffee until I am at work at 8:00.

This morning, all of that was exactly the same. The only difference was that this morning, he was two. No longer a baby. Officially a toddler. Officially a kid. Head in rib cage, check. Feet on shoulder, check. Whining about being woken, check. 1 year old-not today. Today he is two. He is no longer a baby. I know, I said that already. But I have to keep saying it to believe it is true. See, two years is a long time, right? Wrong. Two years ago my daughter was still 5, which just so happens to be the age I still think she is. Which means, my mind works as if it is still two years ago. As in, in my mind, he was just born-today.

Lucas has been whatisthewordIamlookingforhere since he was born. When I spent the most amazing and trying and emotional first twelve weeks of his life with him in sweet delicious solitude, he cried-a lot. He cried when I changed him. He cried when I burped him. He cried when I put him in his swing. He cried when I ate. He cried when I tried to sleep. He didn't cry when he was nursing or sleeping. When I went back to work, I was in constant fear that all his needs weren't being met. "He needs to be held a whole lot of the time-as in, all the time," I'd told her. "He spits up a lot, as in, all his food," I'd told her. "Be sure he burps 3 times," I'd told her. Every second away from him in the beginning was impossible. I could finally breathe when I got there to pick him up. He will be OK now, I'd thought. I finally grew out of that.  A bit.

Now, he is 2. He is not a baby anymore. I don't know if I understand a life without a baby in it. Addison was not a baby for quite some time before Lucas came, I know. But now, for some reason, I feel like my life requires his being a baby. Well, more like-I am going to need him to still be my baby. My baby-he will never stop being that. But a baby - he is not. Soon he won't require a pacifier (god willing) at night. Soon, he won't hold my cheeks in his hands and nuzzle his nose against mine. Soon, he won't require my chest to fall asleep on. Soon, he will pronounce all his words correctly-and his sweet way of saying I love you won't be quite as sweet. Soon, he won't pitter patter in the hallway on his teeny little chubby feet. Today, he won't be one anymore. Soon, he won't wake up and scream across the hall. Soon, he will be in a big boy bed. Shit, tomorrow, he will be seven!

I am the luckiest mom in the world to call him mine. I love him with every.single.piece of my heart. I love him too much. Yes, that is a thing. Loving too much is a scary thing because it makes you worry beyond reason. It makes you care beyond responsibility. It makes your heart hurt with happiness. I look forward to every second and every moment of the next two years I get with this little man, and every single second of every single day after that.

Happy Birthday Little Man.

Daddy, Addison, and I love you too much. Always.

P.S.-of course I cried today.

I am not your competition

I know I have said this many of times before, but, as moms, we so, so, so, far too often judge one another. Did you see how she was holding him? Did you see how filthy her bathroom was? Good lord that dinner was overcooked! She does what? Cloth diapers are gross. Her baby sleeps in her bed? She is one of those moms. She only buys organic. She makes Kraft! .


The sad news...these are just a few of the things we say about each other. Some are far worse. Far, far worse.

Whether you are a friend, a mom yourself, a woman with baby fever, a woman with a positive pregnancy test in your hand, or a woman desperately trying to conceive, please know:

I am not your competition.

I am your advocate.
I am your biggest fan.
I am your supporter.
I am just like you.
I am scared too.
I mess up often.
I feed my kids Kraft.

But, most importantly, I am not your competition.

How many of us confide in our mothers? For support-for an uplifting conversation? For a simple, it is going to be okay? I know I do. I know that at times, without her support, I may literally crumble and break in two. Why then, can we not do that for one another?

We are all mothers, or wanting to be, or trying to be. So why then, can we not help each other? Support each other? I will tell you why. We all feel as if we are in constant competition. We often compare what we do to what every other mother is doing. We break each other down. We judge. We question. We gossip. However, too much praise on your mothering skills-there is just no such thing! So, just in case no one has told you today, or this month, or this year, or in your lifetime:

You are doing such an amazing job.
There is no job on this planet as demanding as motherhood.
Your kids love you so much.
You deserve a metal.
The amount of clean clothes, toilets, floors, baseboards, and fans in your house is just right.
You are making the right choices.
You are doing what is best for your children.
You are sexy.
You are not my competition.

Sometimes, I really get it right. My kids are clean and well behaved, or my dinner party is perfection. My house is clean, and I cook in heels. My husband smacks my butt in appreciation/affection or slow dances with me in the kitchen. But, sometimes, I get it all wrong! I don't wash my hair. My son sleeps in my bed-every.night. I yell, or worse, scream. I go to bed with black feet because my hardwood floors are filthy. My kids wear dirty socks. My daughter doesn't shower for two days. I make chicken nuggets twice in one week. My husband wants nothing to do with me. All these things are true, sometimes. But, at the end of the day, I am a mom. I am going to make mistakes. I am going to compare myself to all of you.

Finally, I am going to do my very best to remind myself that you are not my competition, and I am not yours. We are all in this together. Whether we agree with one another or not-we are on the same team. We all have the same goal in mind. We all just want to be good mothers. To raise our kids right. To love them unconditionally and if we are lucky-get a fraction of that love right back.